Daughter
by blueowls
Summary: Brittany x Santana, outside POV. //Her real dislike of the blonde man starts when Santana is just a kindergartener.//


**Author Note:** I'm not really a fan of playing with a character's parents when we haven't even met them, but it just happened. Be gentle.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Daughter**

Russell Fabray has always gotten on Maria Lopez's nerves.

Her real dislike of the blonde man starts when Santana is just a kindergartener. Maria's pretty sure that stabbing pain in her chest is her heart breaking as she puts her daughter down, struggling not to wobble on her stiletto heels as she pries small fingers off the collar of her crisp white blouse and stands straight.

"No!" Santana howls, face already streaked with tears, and the teacher, some girl who looks like she's had her credentials for all of two months, winces, either in embarrassment or at the noise. It hurts her to do it, but Maria has to make it to work on time, so she takes Santana's hand, pressing a kiss to her damp cheek before handing her to the teacher.

Santana reaches out, a hand latching onto the fabric of Maria's skirt, and starts to cry harder as Russell slips past them in the hall, an eyebrow arched as he waits right in the middle of the doorway of the kindergarten room, carrying a blonde little girl with her arms looped around his neck.

"Is this Ms. D's class?" he asks over Santana's sobs, and Maria and the teacher both look at him incredulously before focusing on Santana. Maria bends down awkwardly, a hand cupping her daughter's chin as she presses a kiss to her forehead.

"_Mija_, it's only for a couple of hours," Maria reasons, brushing a tear off Santana's cheek with the pad of her thumb, and her daughter's mouth snaps shut like she's trying to control herself. She nods, heaving a watery sigh that promises more tears as the teacher rests her hand on Santana's shoulder, ready to steer her into the classroom. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

Russell clears his throat imperiously, and Maria stands up, watching the teacher push Santana gently in the classroom. Santana drags her feet all the way over to a small table, taking a seat and staring dejectedly into space as she reaches up and scrubs at her cheeks.

"Finally," Russell says impatiently, and he puts his little girl down as he stands and turns to the teacher. The girl looks up at her father, who's already deep in conversation with the teacher, before walking shyly into the classroom with no tears and no screaming.

Maria hitches her purse over her shoulder, knowing that her time is running out, but she watches as Russell's little girl makes her way over to the table Santana's sitting at. Miraculously, there's already another girl sitting with her daughter, another blonde, but this one with a wide smile on her face, talking animatedly at Santana. She's not talking _with_ her because Santana's staring at her mother and looking hurt, so Maria waves softly before turning and leaving.

Russell catches up with her in the parking lot, flicking his sunglasses from where they're perched on his head down over his eyes.

"Is that report ready?" he asks, and Maria has to fake an even bigger smile than she usually does around him.

"It'll be on your desk as soon as I can get into my office," she promises, and Russell nods like he didn't expect to hear anything else as he turns abruptly, heading for his car. Maria unlocks her car and watches his giant black Escalade peal out of the tiny parking lot, and it strikes her then and there that she already feels sorry for that little blonde girl.

---

Judy calls her up a few days later, asking Maria if she'd like to schedule a play date between her daughter, Santana, and another girl named Brittany. Maria agrees, and Judy asks her to hold for a minute as she gets out her day planner.

The next day, all of Maria's plans about resting and relaxing for a couple of hours as the girls play are thrown out the door when Judy shows up at one o'clock sharp with her daughter and another girl in tow and _stays_.

"Quinn is just so shy," Judy says almost sadly as Maria sets down a cup of coffee in front of her and takes a seat at the kitchen table on the other side. Judy runs a finger over the rim of the cup thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side to see out the kitchen door and into the living room. All three of the girls are sitting on the floor in a sloppy circle, digging through a plastic container full of toys. Maria looks back over her shoulder, seeing a flash of dark hair among all the blonde and smiling to herself as she turns back to Judy.

"I'm sure she'll grow out of it," Maria says gently. "They're just little girls right now."

Judy nods, finally picking up the cup and taking a sip. "Quinnie's sister—my eldest—is just _so_ outgoing. I don't know what happened."

"I don't know much about siblings," Maria admits with a shrug. "Santana's our only one. But I'm sure nothing's wrong. Kids aren't carbon copies of each other."

"Our?" Judy repeats with an easy smile. "So there _is_ a Mr. Lopez?"

Whatever possibility there was that the day could have gone well instantly sours, and Maria fakes a smile for Judy just like she does for Russell.

"Of course," she says, rising and taking her cup. She rinses it out in the sink, the coffee untouched, before turning and leaning back against the counter. "We've been married four years."

"What church?" Judy asks brightly, setting her cup down on a coaster. "A friend of mine does wedding planning, and I'm sure she's done all of the ones at Cornerstone."

"St. Vincent's," Maria answers, and Judy's smile tightens. They manage a few more minutes of pleasant chitchat before Judy checks her phone, frowning, and excuses herself.

"I'll pick you up at three," Judy says, waving goodbye at Quinn as she and Maria pass through the living room. The little girl looks up from the plastic toy pony's mane she's braiding, smiling softly as Judy follows Maria to the front door.

After she's seen Judy out, Maria makes herself another cup of coffee, one that she actually drinks this time, and watches the girls play from the kitchen. She has nothing again Quinn, Maria realizes, despite her parents. But Maria takes an instant shine to the other blonde, Brittany, when she tackles Santana out of the blue and they both fall to the carpet, laughing, and Quinn scoots back, avoiding flailing limbs.

Santana throws herself on her mother when Judy comes back to pick up Quinn and Brittany, and Maria picks her up, resting her on her hip as they watch another shiny Fabray car pull out of their driveway, Judy waving at them through the window before they're gone.

"I like Brittany," Santana whispers into her ear. "Quinn, too, but Brittany more."

"Give her a chance," Maria says gently, setting Santana down, and she takes her daughter's hand and leads her back into the living room to start cleaning up. "She's going to need it."

---

"We got her a car for the chastity ball," Russell says proudly as he picks up the coffee pot and pours himself another cup, and Maria nods like she always does, seeing the rest of her coworkers crowded into the break room do the same. "And you should see her dress! It's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful."

Maria knows the chastity ball isn't something her daughter is going to be doing, and not just because it's the wrong church. She's seen that Puck kid slinking around outside their house after she's turned off her bedroom light.

She's seen Brittany do the same, too.

"Finn's such a nice boy," Judy says proudly over lunch one weekend, and Maria nods, because Judy is either blind or trying hard not to see that her daughter is a teenager, and the one thing teenagers think about is sex. She's seen Finn at football games and he does look like a nice kid, but that doesn't mean they won't do something stupid in the heat of a moment.

"And how about Santana?" Judy asks. "Is she seeing anyone? The girls don't seem to talk about each other that much anymore."

"I don't know," Maria lies, neglecting to mention that she hears Quinn's name less and less in Santana and Brittany's conversations, and Judy looks shocked.

"Well," Judy says stiffly. "At least she's in the celibacy club with Quinnie. It should keep them both out trouble, and Brittany, too."

Maria snorts, and as it turns into full-blown laughter, Judy looks at her with an expression between annoyance and confusion.

"Santana will find trouble," Maria admits once she catches her breath, "just to keep herself entertained. And I'm sure Brittany's the one helping her find it."

But she's never been so far from laughing come Monday, back at the office.

"Did you hear?" one of the after school volunteers asks, and Maria looks up from her computer, eyes narrowing as the girl's voice breaks the relative silence of the busy office. The two girls are sitting at a desk in a cubicle across the hall from her, one spinning lazily in a plush chair and another leaning against a cubicle wall, visiting and sipping a Starbuck she's not supposed to have. Maria watches and listens, her typing slowing to a stop as the first girl continues excitedly, a predatory gleam in her eye. "You know Quinn Fabray? The pregnant one?"

"That sophomore who runs the Celibacy Club?" the other volunteer asks moodily. She pops the plastic top off her coffee cup and tosses it in the trash before bringing it to her lips, tilting it back to get every last drop from the cup. " Who cares."

Maria uncrosses her ankles, smoothing her skirt as she rises from her chair. There's a huge stack of papers in a manila folder on her desk that haven't been filed yet and she picks it up, careful of her neatly manicured nails. As she rounds her desk and heads toward the volunteers' cubicle, they continue their conversation, oblivious.

"Well, that's the best part," the first girl gloats, leaning forward with her elbows on the desk. "It's Puck's."

"Puck?" the second girl repeats incredulously, and Maria's only a few feet away from stepping into the cubicle when the other girl speaks again, stopping Maria dead in her tracks. Taking a step back, she stops in the hallway out of sight of the two girls, listening. "You mean Santana's Puck?"

"That Puck," the first girl says, and Maria hears soft laughter from one of them.

"'That's disgusting," the second one says flatly. "Puck's hot, but a baby? Ugh."

"Right? Santana better watch out."

There's a murmur of agreement, and Maria's fingers tighten around the stack of papers as she steps into the cubicle. She drops the stack on the intern's desk with a bang, ruffling loose papers and sending an empty candy bar wrapper over the edge of the desk. The two girls look up guiltily, and Maria arches a brow distastefully, hands curling over her hips.

"Get to work," she snaps, turning on her heels. There's a quick apology—for being off task, but not for gossiping—that Maria ignores as she stalks back to her desk. She can see them from her office, and she makes sure they spend the rest of the afternoon running from one thankless task to the other.

Maria knows she's dodged a bullet, but she feels absolutely no joy in seeing Russell's fallen face several weeks later, once the news has made it through a good chunk of Lima. It could just as easily been her own daughter—theoretically, at least, since she's seeing less of Puck and more of Brittany these days—and Maria wonders where Quinn is staying. Russell doesn't talk about her any more.

---

She learns from Brittany later, who answers with a slight frown as she pours herself a glass of milk before retreating to Santana's room, that Quinn is staying at Puck's house after getting kicked out of Finn's. Maria can't see that working out long, and, through Brittany again, extends an invitation to Quinn. It's the least she can do, having known the girl for so long even if she hasn't seen Quinn over at their home in years.

It's only three weeks until Quinn takes her up on her offer. Maria opens the front door one day to see the little blonde girl she knew from before standing on the steps, in a pretty white dress that can't hide her stomach and looking as calm and composed as ever.

Her eyes, though, are red like she's been crying, so Maria picks up her bags and brings them in, Quinn trailing in after her. As the girl settles gingerly onto the couch, her hands fluttering to her stomach, Maria breathes a silent sigh of relief that it's not Santana sitting there in Quinn's position.

"Thank you," Quinn whispers, and then she clears her throat before going on, a little stronger. "Thank you for letting me stay here."

"Not a problem," Maria says, flicking a hand dismissively through the air. "Does Russell know where you're staying?"

Quinn shakes her head, letting out a slow, shuddering breath as she starts to trace circle on her stomach with a finger. "I don't think he cares."

"Well, you can stay in Santana's room for tonight," Maria says, frowning at the thought of Russell Fabray kicking a sixteen-year-old out of his house. That's actually not much of a surprise, because she's seen the light in his eyes when he gets an opening in a conversation and starts talking about religion, but to go so far as to pretend your daughter doesn't even exist because of one mistake? There's something wrong with that. "It's that or the couch."

"Is Brittany over?" Quinn asks, and when Maria nods, she blushes a faint pink. "I'll take the couch."

Maria leans forward, her elbows on her knees as she watches the girl. "Do you have a problem with it?"

"I'm really in no position to judge," Quinn admits, and her hands go still, resting on her stomach as she looks away.

"But do you have a problem with it?" Maria asks again, because it's not the same thing.

"I don't know," Quinn shrugs, and her head tilts back against the back of the couch before she sniffs quietly. "I'm sorry."

"At least it's the truth," Maria says, because at least Quinn's giving her that. But then Quinn starts to cry, and even though Maria knew housing two teenage girls—three, considering how much time Brittany spends in the Lopez home—would be far from a walk in the park, Russell Fabray definitely owes her.

---

Maria is getting tired of hearing Santana open the back door in the middle of the night, of hearing the muted footsteps on the stairs as the two of them make their way to Santana's room and the soft cursing when the girls run into each other in the darkened hallway. Most nights, there's quiet talking and even giggling. Less often, as if this is the only one thing they care about hiding, there's whimpers.

Maria gets up from the kitchen table in the dark, careful of her steps as she makes her way to the back door. Through the window above the sink, she sees a familiar flash of blonde in the dark, and she flicks on the lights as she opens the door, crossing her arms against the cool night air.

"You can come in," she says, voice carrying over the backyard, and there's a moment of silence before Brittany stands up from behind a hedge, grinning sheepishly. Maria sits her down at the table, catching the way Brittany's eyes flick up toward Santana's room before that blank, lost look settles defensively over her features.

"You're not mad?" Brittany asks quietly, and Maria shakes her head.

"Far from it," she admits, and Brittany's brow furrows as she looks down, picking at a hangnail to avoid looking Maria in the eyes. They sit there in silence for several minutes until Maria gets up, and she pauses in the doorway of the kitchen, looking back to see Brittany turned around in her chair, fingers tapping against the back as she bites her lip.

"Use the front door next time," Maria says, and then she retreats to her room. Soon after, she hears Brittany run up the stairs, the floorboards creaking as she pauses at the top, waiting like she's expecting Maria to pop out and yell "gotcha!" before hauling her back downstairs and out the door.

Santana's door creaks, and Maria can almost see her daughter appear in the doorway, hair mussed and dark eyes still half-closed in sleep. There are murmurs and then footsteps, and the door creaks again, closing.

She decides to confront Russell.

"You do know that your daughter is staying at my house?" Maria begins, holding out a napkin, and Russell looks up from the broken coffee pot someone's left on the counter. He takes the offered napkin gratefully, swiping it through the coffee that's leaked all over the Formica, but says nothing.

"Look, Fabray," Maria says a little more loudly. It's dangerous territory, because technically he's her boss, but she's pretty tired of having to deal with a weepy pregnant girl. Not because of Quinn, but because it really should be someone else, someone Quinn _chose_, guiding her through all this, and not the mother of one of her friends as a last resort. "We all have to deal with things that we haven't planned. This is ridiculous."

She expects Russell to blow up, maybe to throw the coffee pot or something equally as childish. But he only holds up a hand before Maria can say more, his eyes hard as he holds her gaze.

"You don't understand," he says, voice low before he strides past her, leaving the coffee pot still leaking on the counter. Maria watches him go and she has to agree that, yes, she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand at all how religion, however important, can trump your own flesh-and-blood daughter—and granddaughter.

Maria is the one who helps Quinn into her car and to the hospital the night her water breaks, who hunts down a nurse as Quinn begs for an epidural and willingly lets the girl hold her hand and crush just about every bone in it when another contraction hits. She doesn't begrudge Quinn this at all. But she's also the one who has to watch Quinn hand the baby, swaddled in a pink blanket, over to a nurse before her face crumples. Maria offers her a shoulder and Quinn, the same self-assured little girl she used to know, takes it and cries, and when she sees this, Maria thanks God it didn't happen to her daughter.


End file.
